When, why and how did you start painting?
My ambitions were centered on illustration when
I was younger. I always loved to tell stories with my drawings. My favorites
were the very romantic or morally driven stories – the more sentimental the
better. I once illustrated The Phantom of the Opera because I loved the
dark romantic element to the story. My adaptation was never published on a
large scale – I just loved illustrating the stories so much that I did it
without thought of financial gain.
Although I’d never say I completely “mastered”
illustration, I wanted a greater challenge when I began my formal studies in
1996. My favorite painters were Rembrandt, Michelangelo, and Van Gogh. A
formal education in art today means that you, as a student, are likely to be
driven away from all that you loved about what you thought was “art” when you
arrived at the University. My instructors appreciated my enthusiasm for the Old
Masters, but it wasn’t long before I was being encouraged to experiment with my
form and content. I wanted to make bold, dramatic paintings like the Old
Masters – and I discovered Odd Nerdrum as an undergraduate student, so I knew it
could be done with contemporary equipment. My professors, however, insisted
that no one should, or could, paint as the masters did. A “that was then, this
is now” attitude is prevalent among educators because they are an extension of
the art world itself. Predictably, my attempts at bold, ambitious compositions
as an undergraduate student were terrible failures. I didn’t learn the proper
techniques until I attended the New York Academy of Art Graduate School of
Figurative Art.
Why and how did you become a student of Odd Nerdrum? When did you study with
Nerdrum?
To my surprise, Odd Nerdrum was a controversial
figure at the New York Academy of Art. I was still very naïve – the Academy is
very much an “art” school despite its instruction in classical techniques. I
met some former students of the Academy who had studied with Odd Nerdrum at his
summer residence, and I thought it was extraordinary that a painter of his
stature would invite aspiring painters to study under him. I know of no other
painter of his caliber who offers such opportunities.
In the fall of 2003, I was still struggling to
improve my painting skill at the Academy, but I found the confidence to send
some samples of my best work to Odd Nerdrum’s American representatives at the
Forum Gallery in hopes of studying with him. A few months later, to my surprise
and delight, I was invited to study with him the following summer of 2004.
I worked as a studio assistant for Odd Nerdrum
in the summers of 2004, 2005, and 2007.
Are the concepts ”kitsch” and ”art” interesting or important questions for you –
and in that case – how and why? Do you see yourself as an artist or a
kitsch-painter?
For years, I didn’t understand it, especially as an
undergraduate student. My art instructors criticized me for years because they
identified this terrible “fault” of mine as an artist – my tendency to create
kitsch. Everything is acceptable in art except for sentimental pictures, and
everything I wanted in my work had a sentimental quality. Everything I
appreciate and strive for is “old” to the art world, and that works completely
opposite of that which is considered “quality” in art.
When I read “On Kitsch”, I knew that Odd
Nerdrum and Jan Ove Tuv had identified the core issue facing contemporary
painters. I finally understood that I wasn’t an artist at all. What’s funny to
me is for all of the fear that artists have of being labeled “kitsch”, I felt
absolutely liberated once I embraced the fact that what I create is not “art”.
I’m learning more about the revisionist history
that art historians have manufactured – the fact that the Old Masters didn’t
think of themselves as “artists”, but craftsmen. The artificial line that has
been fabricated to link modernism to the Masters is disgusting to me, not to
mention insulting. Likening the tossing of paint, as Jackson Pollack did, to
the meticulous, skilled hand of Rembrandt is silliness to me.
Artists have no power in the art world –
critics, curators, and historians do. The primary function of art critic is to
strengthen and maintain the fabricated link between modernism and the masterly
craftsmen of centuries past. The stronger the link, the more legitimate those
color field and abstract expressionist paintings seem. They wouldn’t dream of
acknowledging that it is something different altogether. Art critics do a great
disservice to the practice of painting when they can say, “Pollack equals or
betters Rembrandt,” and the population nods and agrees. They wield amazing
power – they can dictate what is worthwhile. They dictate what has quality, not
the artist.
Art lovers love to talk about the “thought
provoking” nature of art – a Warhol “makes them think”, where they do not have
to think when they look at a Rembrandt. That is contrived silliness to me. If
I want to “think”, I’ll do a math problem. When I look at a Warhol, I think,
“There is a depressed individual who hates himself and mankind.” The mind games
and cynicism in modern art just depresses me.
How will you describe your period with Nerdrum? What impact do you think Nerdrum
has had on you as a painter?
I grew
as a painter in so many ways. I found the confidence to embrace the sentimental
themes I’ve wanted to paint, but was discouraged from painting by art
educators. I’ve become extremely critical – that is so important if you want to
become a strong painter. I’m critical of myself and everything I see. I’m
always comparing. You learn to look for more, and to look for the best, when
you study with Odd Nerdrum.
I think there are a lot of misconceptions about
what it is to study with Odd Nerdrum. He doesn’t teach you “his technique” –
his technique is changing all the time. He is always experimenting. What is
more important, I think, is how you begin to think about your own paintings as
you watch him create his. I have to say it was important to learn that he is a
kind, friendly person who loves life and loves his family – when you study with
him, you realize that he is painting his life.
I can’t underestimate how valuable it has been
to meet like-minded painters. The relationships between the other kitsch
painters are special, I think. It is competitive, to be sure, but in the best
way. We are genuinely happy to see each other’s successes.
Please, tell me about your “Wrath of the tyrant”. What’s the story – the
message? It’s a masterful composition. The subject, however, might be harder to
grasp.
With “Wrath of the Tyrant”, my goal was to make
a large painting of a tragic scene that could take place 500 years ago, today,
or 500 years from now. I wanted to make a painting that recalled Michelanglo’s
Last Judgment and Géricault’s Raft of the Medusa. As I painted
the picture, many people asked me what the story was. Many people thought I was
making a commentary about contemporary life. However, none of my paintings are
addressing specific events, and they certainly are not intended to be a
political commentary.
Some people are confused when I tell them that
“Wrath of the Tyrant” is a sentimental picture. This is because they can’t get
beyond the violence of the scene. The point of the picture is that we empathize
with the group of people who are frightened. It is this empathy that makes the
painting extremely sentimental.
Could you say something about what you want with your pictures? Do you have
specific messages or emotions you wish to express? A set of values attached to
your work?
My goal is to present the human condition and,
if I am successful, evoke empathy from the viewer – this is a key element in
kitsch paintings. Modern art critics insist that the work should evoke nothing
so that the viewer can project their experience onto the work. Mark Rothko is a
good example – the colors red and brown in and of themselves don’t move us; it
is how we experience Rothko’s red over brown that is important. The kind of
drama you find in great kitsch paintings is a sin in the art world – a sin to
appreciate it, and a greater sin to paint it.
I do not project any morality onto my
paintings. However, each figure in the composition is significant to me,
because each one is another human soul. It strikes me just how lyrical, or even
beautiful, a violent scene can be.
What would you say inspires you?
The Old Masters inspire me. Painting miracles
inspire me. The idea of participating in the grand tradition of painting
excites me, and it keeps me working.
What are your greatest challenges as a painter?
Building a body of quality work on a strict
budget is difficult. Financial demands of everyday life are a challenge. Then,
of course, there is the challenge of marketing yourself and your work in an
industry that, by and large, sees what you create as outdated and perpetually
“out of style”. It’s like being a great horse jockey in the auto racing world –
what is the jockey doing there? He should go be with his own people – such is
the feeling of the kitsch painter in the art world.
What is more important – form or content?
Content overrides everything, but if a painter
has no form – no technical skill – the results will be poor. Or, you could say
the result would be “art”, because in art, a painter can be naïve and untrained
but still considered a “genius”. With kitsch, respect is earned only through
strong technique in conjunction with thoughtful content. A painter can have
tremendous technical skill, yet still unable to produce a memorable picture –
that is where content comes in. A great kitsch painter treats his subject
matter, and his unknown viewers, with the utmost respect. Kitsch painters
respect humanity, where artists are more interested in mockery and humiliation.
Could you say a few words about your thoughts on your own classical way of
painting, maybe vs. modernistic art?
Kitsch painters aren’t trying to say that “classical
painting” is better than modern art; they are insisting that it is different and
should stand alone from it. Artists and art critics have created something that
is very fragile and whimsical – this thing we know as art. When I look at
paintings by the Masters, I see strength, purpose, and dignity. When I compare
Basquiat to Rembrandt, I see the results of human beings engaged in very
different endeavors. The failing of modern art is the belief that because
elements of society have changed, the eternal human experience has changed.
This simply isn’t true. We still love and hurt each other as much as we ever
have – the times shouldn’t make us hate a painter for portraying that fact in a
moving picture.